


Satisfied (snippet)

by 61secs



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Fake Relationship, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/61secs/pseuds/61secs
Summary: Clint Barton and Demeter are chosen as SHIELD's pawns for an undercover mission in California. The mission: to get close to German enemies who have created biological weaponry in order to bring their empire down. Having to pose as a husband and wife only fuels the fires of passion and rage. Demeter can only hope that they're able to walk out of this alive. (Rating change due to added snippet).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> important: there is talk of the honeypot trope used in espionage-themed works. there is a very small (one sentence) mention of a potential non-con situation (nothing graphic). i do apologize ahead of time if this makes anyone uncomfortable but again, it's only one sentence.

Demeter watches as the waves crash and ebb from the shore, the smell of the salt water calming her nerves and making her feel more at ease. She idly plays with Clint’s fingers, sometimes playing with the gold band around his finger, almost blurring the lines between this mission and their reality. Lost in thought, Demeter is almost lulled to sleep by the sounds of the ocean; the waves and the birds, people milling about and the smell of freshly cooked food.

“Alistair!” an unfamiliar voice calls out, and Clint sits up quickly, head turning to the source of the voice. Demeter gets up, although a bit reluctantly, almost panicking when she sees a lovely couple walking towards them.

The Krigers.

“Garion!” Clint returns, a smile spreading over his lips as the couple nears. Both men hug, strong and a few words exchanged before they pull back. Garion looks towards Demeter, the smile still on his lips. She couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not, but she smiled herself nonetheless.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he states, accent so thick that Demeter can’t believe she didn’t catch it at first. His face is strong, with a sharp jawline and cheek bones that could cut glass. He has auburn hair that’s neatly groomed; his facial hair is clean cut and his eyes are the color of whiskey. He practically bleeds villain, Demeter thinks, and guiltily thinks that if he wasn’t hell-bent on destroying the world, he’d actually be attractive.

“Oh, apologies,” Clint says, resting a warm palm on her back and almost pushing her closer towards the taller male. “This is my wife, Evangeline.”

She extends her left hand, thankful she wore her ring, a practiced blush on her cheeks. “Please, call me Eva. Evangeline sounds so old-fashioned,” she adds with a small laugh. Garion smiles in reply, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss.

“That’s not always so bad,” he says, and she does her best to not let her smile falter, a chill going down her spine from the contact. She does glance over to his wife, who doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. She remembers to take her hand back after her holds it for a moment too long, motioning towards the petite blonde at his side.

“And this must be your wife, yes?” she asks, and she receives the same calculating look from her that she did from Clint only hours earlier.

“Yes,” Garion says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This is my beautiful Eda.” Beautiful she is, Demeter thinks with only a hint of bitterness. Long, platinum blonde hair that reaches her waist; breasts that are perfect in size and almost spilling out of her bikini top; a tapered waist and a flat stomach that girls can only dream about; long, lean legs and her entire skin is sun-kissed perfectly. Demeter had never been one to feel unhappy with her body, but fuck, it was hard to love it now looking at this walking model.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eda,” Clint says, taking her hand much in the same manner that Garion had with her own, placing a delicate kiss there. The smile that pulls on his lips is genuine, and Demeter sees the way he tries to sneak a look at her more fully.

Jealously claws its way up her throat, and she can do nothing more than stand there like an idiot, placing a hand on Clint’s back. She feels as if the touch is futile, though, because he doesn’t move any further back from Eda.

“We were just on our way out,” Garion says, “but I will see you at work tomorrow morning, bright and early, yes?”

“Of course, sir,” Clint replies quickly, finally breaking eye contact with Eda.

“I noticed you took the same route I did going home. Do we happen to live in the same community?” Garion asks as Eda fixes the sunglasses on her face and pulls her hair up into a ponytail, exposing the curve of her neck.

Demeter can see the way his eyes flash to the skin before addressing Garion one more. “I believe so, yes. The house was so beautiful, we just had to have it.”

Eda smiles this time, almost predatorial, though that only shows her straight, pearl-white teeth. “We must have you over for dinner, then. As a celebration for your new job.”

Clint doesn’t even spare her a second glance before he’s agreeing whole-heartedly, and Demeter’s blood is on fire with barely suppressed venom.

Clint kisses her hand one more time as they say their goodbyes, and Garion winks at Demeter while they do so, where she blushes appropriately.

She watches as they walk away – though she’s sure Clint is watching for an entirely different reason – and once they’re out of hearing range, she goes back to laying down on the towel, stomach churning unhappily. Clint takes his time lying back down next to her, this time on his front, and Demeter rolls her eyes as she looks to the side, not wanting to face him now.

She hates herself for being so childish, especially since she’d already promised Clint she’d be more of the adult she’s supposed to be. They’re only married in the most liberal of terms, and even then, it’s only for the mission. There’s nothing actually stopping Clint from fucking Eda if he wants, and Demeter would bet everything that what he’s hoping it comes to.

With visiting her dead friends earlier, and now this, all she wants to do is go home and be miserable. She wishes there was a punching bag, or something that she could use as an excuse to let off some steam instead of blowing up at him again.

The touch on her back startles her so much that she jumps, heart beating a mile a minute as she turns to look at Clint. He doesn’t look necessarily happy, like he almost wants to say something that she doesn’t want to hear.

“You know,” he starts off carefully, looking around to make sure no one else is in hearing range, “you’re going to have to play your role a lot better if this is to be believable.”

Her blood runs cold, swallowing hard because she doesn’t feel like she could breath. She wants to bite out a retort back, but she can feel her resolve crumbling, so she just turns away from him, burying her face in her arms and feeling as tears – for the umpteenth time that day – streak down her face.

* * *

 

The ride back to their house is tense, which is only amplified by the darkness, and Demeter says nothing as she goes into the house. She throws her bathing suit off angrily, watching as the deep purple fabric sinks into the clothing basket. She rummages through her own clothing, picking out a blue cotton t-shirt and matching shorts.

As she’s changing into her sleep wear, she can’t help but look over herself in the full-length mirror in their closet. Her breasts aren’t as big; while she has a flat stomach, there isn’t much muscle there; her legs aren’t as long and there’s small patches of stretch marks along her upper thighs and butt; and her hair falls just past her shoulder blades. She chokes back a small sob as she pulls her clothes on slowly, frowning in her reflection in the mirror. Maria should’ve chosen Natasha, or even herself, someone equally as beautiful and intimidating as Eda, if that even was her real name. She’s convinced that the only reason she was chosen for this mission in the first place is because of her age.

Wiping a few tears from her eyes, she lingers in their bedroom doorway for a couple moments. Clint is going through their files again, and realises that he’s looking at Eda’s profile as a picture of Garion is flipped. His head comes up quick, though, when he feels her eyes on him, and that worried look is clouding his eyes.

“C’mere,” he says softly, reaching out one hand for her. She goes, reluctantly, knowing that she’s essentially a ticking time bomb and almost itching for a fight. She doesn’t give him her hand, but she does go to sit by him, unable to look him in the eyes for a more than a couple seconds.

He grabs her chin, forcing her head up and making her look at him. “What happened to being an adult?” he asks, a hard edge to his voice. “I thought we were done being childish.” He pushes her chin away, playing with the edge of the folder.

It feels so much like a reprimand, a metaphorical slap to her face.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” she says instead, and realizes that was the wrong thing when he snaps the folder shut, the house going eerily quiet for a second.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be petty about this,” he says, and it hurts because he didn’t deny it.

“No,” she says, voice cold. “I’m going to do my job.”

“Your job is to be my wife,” Clint bites back, his shoulders tense.

She almost wants to laugh in his face, almost wants to slap him for that comment as well. “I’d feel more confident about _playing_ your wife,” she spits with venom, “if you acted like you actually wanted me to be! Don’t lie to me and say that you were only playing your part,” she continues, “because you looked like you wanted to fuck her right there on the beach.”

He grabs her by the throat, eyes blazing with anger, and she swallows hard. She hates the small shiver of pleasure that goes through her, feeling betrayed by her own body. “I know we’re just pretending,” she says, quieter this time. The grip on her throat loosens, changes to cupping the back of her neck. “I don’t blame you,” and she can’t meet his eyes anymore, and he doesn’t try to make her look at him. She wants to say more, but she feels like she’s at the limit for her heart breaking so many times in one day.

She wants to curl herself up in the blankets, wants to pretend that it’s still the morning and Clint’s mouth it hot and heavy on hers as he presses her back into the sheets. She remembers that he was supposed to take care of her when he got home from work, though now she’s hardly in the mood.

“Look,” he says with a heavy sigh, pushing the file away from him and into the pile of other manila folders, “I understand how you’re feeling and I know it hurts.” He bites his bottom lip for a second, before holding his hand out, laying it on the counter in an invitation for her to take it. She does, after a tense silence, and hates how much it’s shaking. Clint’s fingers close around hers, engulfing her smaller fingers in his much larger ones. “And I do apologize that we need to have this conversation now, and not in an official briefing session.” Her brows draw together, stomach twisting and she realizes that this is not a conversation she wants to hear.

“We have to talk about the possibility of either one or both of us using sex as an opportunity to get closer to them, and use whatever information we can gather in those times to further understand what they’re plot is.”

She’s speechless, painful memories flashing in her mind of being bound and gagged as a target fucks her relentlessly. This method is no stranger to her, one she thought that being with SHEILD would allow her to stray away from, and she feels like she can no longer form sentences with how her head is swimming.

“I’m only bringing it up because I feel like it could be a viable option. In all honesty, I don’t want it to have to come to that.” He cups her face with his free hand, brows creasing together with worry when she draws in a ragged breath, her pulse under his fingers going wild. “Fake relationship or not, I don’t want to do that to you, Demeter. I know I stepped a little over the line today at the beach, but I wanted to be as authentic as possible. I feel like they use her looks as one of their ploys to get people interested in them, to lure them in as a couple and she’s essentially the bait. I have to fall for it, okay? But you have to remember, who we are out there isn’t who we are in here.”

His thumb strokes over the curve of her jaw, dark eyes still watching her face for any reaction. She thinks the lines might be blurred further down the line, but is thankful he’s bringing it up now. “So I just want to make sure _if_ it comes down to that, you’ll be okay. Either participating or knowing that I’ll be participating.”

“Y-yeah,” she says too quickly, too readily, pushing his hand away from her face and feeling like the world is collapsing in on her. She gets up to pace around their kitchen, biting on her nail as she walks around, the cold floor not helping her current feelings.

He rests his forearms on the table, watching her every tick and move. “I’m not going to actively seek it out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She laughs humorlessly, shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter,” she mutters, mostly to herself. She’s digging herself a deeper hole, crawling further into a cold grave that she’s already seeing for herself.

“Demeter, please,” Clint says softly, and it’s enough to pull her out of her frantic pacing, stopping and looking over at him. He’s been tense ever since they left the beach, and it feels like he’s giving up at this point. “Don’t let this ruin… what we started,” he says after a pause. It almost sounds like a plea, and he reaches his hand out for her again. She stares at it for a moment, at him like he’s a stranger, but she’s drawn back to his side, putting her shaking hand back in his and watching as he slowly laces their fingers together. He brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on her skin.

“I don’t want you any less and I don’t want to stop feeling like you want me just as much,” he says while staring at her, almost through her, she feels, his gaze penetrating her heart. “I don’t want to officially start this mission with this negative feeling.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, and as she walks towards him, he turns his body to be more open. She stands between his open legs, her free hand cupping his jaw. She looks over him critically, taking in his ocean blue eyes and the stubble on his chin, his sun-bleached hair. Her thumb strokes over his skin, sighing again before leaning in and placing a ghost of a kiss over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she states heavily, not wanting to look away from him. “I saw the way you looked at her and something in me just… snapped. I know this marriage isn’t real, but can you blame me for wanting to keep you all to myself?” she says with a sad smile, bringing her hand up to brush her fingers through his hair, some sand still stuck within the tresses.

He cups her face, looking at her intently and making sure she was okay before pressing his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss, waiting until she leans into his touch before pulling away. “She’s gorgeous, yeah, but I don’t want it to have to come to that,” he states openly, and though the admission hurts, at least he’s being honest. “I could see the way he was looking at you, though.” A bitter smile crosses his lips. “He may be married to a model but that didn’t stop him from looking at you like you were some prize to be won. Just thinking about him bedding you makes me go insane,” he states against her mouth before pressing another kiss, a little more heavy this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before snippet #1. After drinking wine and swimming in the pool, Demeter and Clint decide to shower together to clean themselves off, obviously leading to an intimate moment in the shower.

Glass of wine in hand, Demeter carefully steps into the pool in her deep purple bikini, the cool water lapping at her skin the further into the water she gets. Clint had gotten into the pool a couple minutes before her, and although he was wearing sunglasses, she could feel the way his eyes watched her every movement; she thinks this is probably where he got his code name from.

She takes a sip from her glass once she’s fully immerged, choosing to ignore him for the time being. After another sip, she sets her glass down at the edge of the pool, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and diving beneath the blue water. Being a former swimming champion and due to her previous line of work, she’s able to easily hold her breath for long periods, not needing to surface for breath for at least four minutes. She sees Clint duck down into the water out of concern, but she merely waves at him before swimming in the opposite direction.

It takes ten minutes for her to feel completely at ease in the water, and that’s when she grabs her glass once more and wades her way over to Clint, whose hair had begun to dry in the sun’s rays and wore an amused grin on his lips. He’s sitting on one of the benches submerged in the water, and she sets her glass down once more before moving into his lap, the water splashing at the edges with her movements.

An arm winds around her waist as he sets his own glass down, his other hand crawling along her side and down the curve of her ass. “That’s very impressive,” he comments, “that you’re able to hold your breath for that long.”

She shrugs, taking a leisurely sip of wine before answering. “Former swim champion. Kind of comes with the territory.” She grins like the Cheshire cat, both arms winding around his broad shoulders as she presses herself closer, breasts pressed against his chest.

He hums lightly as his fingers dig into her ass, nose pressed against the hollow of her neck. His breath against her skin makes her shiver, biting her bottom lip as she turns her neck to expose the skin to him. “Well, it might come to good use later. Never know what kind of challenges we’ll face in situations like these.”

Her fingers thread through his hair gently as he takes a sip of his wine, the sun’s rays warming her back as she studies his face. He sets his glass down, licking his lips to gather any lingering wine and keeping his one arm spread out on the pool’s edge.

Despite the shades, she can feel the way his eyes roam over her own face, down the curve of her neck, but no lower. They sit in comfortable silence while they work on their glasses of wine; the occasional, soft touches just a gentle reminder. It isn’t until Demeter is tipping back her glass to get the last of her wine that she feels Clint’s lips against her neck, both hands pulling her as deep into his lap as possible. The water splashes around him, and it’s hard to steady herself, but she puts her glass down as carefully as possible in order to grasp at his shoulders for some semblance of balance.

She gaps, a little startled, but his mouth is hot on her skin and she wonders where the sudden desperation came from. “What’s gotten into you?” she murmurs as her nails dig gently into his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut from the sudden bite of his teeth into her collar bone.

He doesn’t respond at first; only bringing a hand up to thumb over the slight mark that had been left on her skin. He finally tilts his head back to look at her properly, and she wishes she could see his eyes in order to read him better. “That color looks amazing on you,” he replies finally, swallowing thickly.

She smirks, although she tries to hide it by biting her bottom lip. Natasha had told her that purple seemed to be Clint’s choice of color for the mission suits, and so Demeer had made sure that the majority of her outfits had purple accents to reflect it. She cocks an eyebrow, head tilting to the side slightly. “A little birdie told me you might like this,” she says a little coyly, but the snort he lets out makes her understand that he knows.

“Tell me to thank her later,” he says lowly before grasping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss, which she eagerly returns. She smiles against his mouth, arms moving back to wind around his neck and move closer. The movements make the water splash around them, and the cool water bites at her skin lightly, making her skin prickle. His other hand moves to the small of her back, keeping her steady against him in the water.

His tongue pushes into her mouth, dominating the kiss and making her breath come out unsteadily through her nose. She whimpers softly as her fingers curl into his hair, the feeling of his hardness against her stomach making her feel light headed. His hips push up against her, and she tries to move back down against him but the water makes it awkward. She makes an unhappy noise when she’s not able to get the friction she wants, pulling her mouth away to breath properly.

Clint takes a deep, steadying breath, mouth pressed against her neck for a couple moments before he speaks. “We should probably go inside. We need to shower off the pool water anyways.” And the thought of him naked and wet, pressed against her body was enough to make her dizzy with lust.

* * *

 She walks into the bathroom first, discarding her towel on the tile floor as soon as she steps onto it. Clint’s not far behind her, having put the wine glasses in the sink, but he lingers in the doorway as he watches her undress.

She stares back at him over her shoulder as she undoes the knots on her bathing suit top, one arm coming up to cross over her chest as the wet material slides to the floor, her other hand pushing down her bottoms. She can see the way his cock hardens in his swimming bottoms, and she winks at him as she turns to walk into their Roman shower, turning it on to a warm setting.

She starts to rinse the pool water off her skin, running her fingers through her hair in order to break up the strands and get the water through her ash-colored hair as well. She doesn’t bother looking at the entry to the shower, knowing that Clint isn’t far behind her.

Feeling his presence as he walks in, her skin prickles in anticipation for his touch. His large, warm palm skates across her stomach before his arm wraps around her lithe waist, pulling her back against his chest. His thick, hard cock settles between her ass cheeks, and she can barely bite back the moan she lets out. He presses kisses along her shoulder before moving her forward to press her against the tile walls, moving them out of the spray of the shower.

Clint grinds his hips against her ass, and she grasps helplessly at the wall as pleasure courses through her body. He presses his forehead to her shoulder, and she can hear him whisper a small “fuck” under his breath, repeating the motion once more. She turns to press her cheek against the cool tile of the shower, pushing her ass out to give him more leverage, feeling herself get wetter with every thrust of his cock.

His free hand joins hers on the wall, linking their fingers together and their rings _clink_ against one another. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice rough as he glances at her. She opens her eyes as much as possible, trying so hard to think of words properly, but all she can think about is how she wants him to touch her, to slip his fingers into her folds, how she wants to feel his cock against her wetness.

“Please don’t stop,” is what she replies with, voice just below a register of desperateness. He can only nod in reply, anchoring himself properly before starting up a steady rhythm of grinding against her ass. She squeezes his fingers tightly as he rocks against her, and he presses sloppy kisses along any piece of exposed skin.

The walls echo her soft moans and his contrasting grunts, and the grip on her hips gets tighter after a few minutes. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” she hears him whisper, and she’s as close as he is. “How ya’ feelin’, baby girl?” he asks, and she almost wants to melt at the fact that he’s trying to make sure he’s not the only one getting something out of this.

“’M so close,” she whimpers against the tiles, “don’t stop.” And she can feel the way his fingers ghost down her hip, over the front of her body. He’s being slow deliberately, giving her the chance to stop him or voice any worries but she can’t, aching to feel his fingers against her. His fingers are soft against her clit, gently rubbing in a circular motion and he has to quickly wrap his free arm around her waist to keep her standing upright as her knees had gone weak with his touch.

 She can feel his smirk against her shoulder and where she would normally want to bite out a retort, all she could do was grab his arm with one hand and the wall with the other, his name a moan on her lips as he brought her to orgasm, the pleasure coursing through her body and her mind going blissfully blank. Clint presses his mouth to the corner of hers in a semblance of a kiss, but she can still feel how tense he is, so she grinds herself back against him until he thrusts a few more times, and she feels when he releases, thick stipes of cum lacing against her lower back, and he groans lowly.

They rest against the wall for a minute or two, getting their breath back to normal and letting the tension seep from their bodies. Clint is the first to move, gently turning Demeter to face him, and pulling them back under the warm spray due to the coldness of the tiles. Her skin is flushed pink, and her eyes are glazed over, but there’s a smile on her lips that he mirrors easily.

She says nothing, merely looks at him for a couple seconds before leaning in to kiss him softly, nothing like their desperate kisses in the pool or earlier that day. His hands trace gentle circles on her hips, feeling for any marks he may have left; not that she would complain if he did.

* * *

 After their shower, Demeter puts her damp hair up into a bun, slips on another one of Clint’s shirts and a pair of soft shorts, and heads back out to the kitchen to read over their files once more. She cups Clint’s face softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth before parting, an almost shy smile on her lips as she does.

He remains standing in their bedroom, t-shirt in hand, mind going a mile a minute over their current situation. He’s torn between his attraction to her and the reality that maybe she’s fallen prey to some form of Stockholm’s Syndrome. Which he thinks takes longer than a day, but he’s not sure how else to justify what’s happening.

As if she was psychic, his phone starts buzzing the next minute and Natasha’s name flashes across his screen. He looks out through the doorway to see Demeter flipping through one of the files, one leg gently swinging off the edge of the chair, the other tucked underneath her. Her bottom lip is pulled up by her teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as she looks over the papers. He finally answers the phone, turning to pace through their bedroom, just for something to do.

 “Hello?”

 “How’s the happy couple?” is the first thing out of her mouth, and he can practically _hear_ the grin on her lips. He thinks Demeter might’ve messaged her about the pool incident, or maybe Natasha is just clairvoyant.

“Good,” he answers a bit distractedly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’ve hardly unpacked anything, but we’ve gotten through the files which is the important part.”

“Yeah?” Natasha asks, and there’s an edge to her voice that Clint’s not sure if he appreciates or not. “Is that all you two have done?” The shit-eating grin is back in her voice, and she’s clearly amused herself. “I may have put a little input into Demeter’s clothing choice. You can thank me later.”

Clint lets out an exasperated sigh, running his hand through his hair and trying not to groan. “As much as I appreciate your input, you’re not really helping at the moment.” He doesn’t mean to kill her good vibe, knowing she’s doing it all with good intentions, but he doesn’t exactly need this war with himself when such an important mission is laid out in front of them.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and that amused edge is gone. He takes another look through their doorway, seeing Demeter’s lips turned into a frown; but she’s forcing herself to go over every minute detail, wanting to make sure she’s not missing anything that would cause them to be put at risk. “What’ve you done?”

“Just a little… touching.” Because as much as Natasha is his best friend, he doesn’t feel the need to go into explicit detail.

“And does she not like it?”

“Complete opposite, I think.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Natasha pushes; as much as she’s able to read him like a book, he knows she wants him to voice his worries out loud. Mostly so she can prove him wrong and say “I told you so”, but he does know it’s for his own benefit. He knows if he voices them out loud, his worries will sound ridiculous.

“What if I’m ruining her? She’s so much younger than me, Nat. What if this is just some weird form of Stockholm Syndrome and the feelings are just forced due to the circumstances?”

The air is heavy with silence when Natasha doesn’t answer right away, and Clint’s almost convinced that she’s hung up the phone due to his stupidity.

“You’re being ridiculous,” is what she finally answers with after a silence that was a little too long. “Please don’t overthink this, Clint. Let yourself have this, let her have this. If you’re both happy and safe, you’re doing nothing wrong. Besides, most of her clothes are purple and I don’t want her feeling sad every time she puts something on that reminds her of you.”

Clint swallows thickly, clutching his shirt tightly in his free hand. He turns it, looking at the gold band that accents his finger, and he lets out a soft breath. “Thanks, Nat. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, babe,” she says, and the smile is back. “I have to go train some of the newer recruits. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He feels lighter after their conversation, pulling his shirt on and going to join Demeter in the kitchen, who’s going over their personal information. He lays a hand on her neck and gives a gentle squeeze, leaning down to press a kiss to the exposed curve of her neck, and he can hear the way her breath hitches, turning up to look at him.

“Everything okay?” she asks, eyes clouded over with worry and a slight frown pulled at her lips.

“Yeah, it was just Nat,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead and sliding into the seat next to her. He takes one of the files, knowing that he should probably go over them a few more times just to be safe. “Just wanted to make sure we were moved in and all that.”  

She makes a non-committal sound, but she presses her free leg up against his, allowing the silence to shroud over them once more as they pour over their files, knowing that there is a thin line between getting this wrong or right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback or comments would be lovely! thank you for reading and i hope to update this with more snippets or perhaps the entire work soon! xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i've ever posted to ao3, so i'm excited! i'm using this title as a placeholder and should i post more, i will be putting a new title. this is a snippet from a larger work that has not been published but i'd love to see what people think!


End file.
